


The Draw

by DoctorQui



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Jack and Gabe are married, M/M, Noodle Dragons, Slow Burn, based on the mughal empire (mostly shah jahan and aurangzeb’s reigns), inspired by the captive prince series, main ship is mchanzo, pharmercy is p background but theyll be cute together dw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8779897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorQui/pseuds/DoctorQui
Summary: Hanzo and Genji Shimada are the emperor’s sons--next in line to inherit the great throne of the Shimada Empire. However, there can be only one successor, determined by the emperor himself. Hanzo, the older son, is pragmatic and wise, listening to his father’s every word. However, he is somewhat distanced from the common people, having spent much of his life at the palace tending to his classes and duties. Genji, on the other hand, is a carefree youth who never paid too much interest to the goings on of the court. This isn’t to say he is lacking in intelligence--Genji’s strengths lie in relations and social ties, a convincing and charming young prince. Each son is supported by different members of the meritocratic mansabdari system, and each side wants their chosen son to be placed on the throne. Meanwhile, to the south, a group of rebels known as the Overwatch States push at the borders of the empire, escalating conflict. When the emperor grows ill and the succession struggle is ramped up by the mansabdars, new ties are formed and the politics of the Shimada Empire grow ever more twisted.





	1. Prince Shimada

_It is said that the Shimada family hails from gods originating far to the east. Descending to earth and taking human form, the family found their ancestral homeland taken by men with tainted hearts and twisted minds. It was only after fleeing west they found it--the new continent where the Shimada Empire would begin. Centuries later, a sprawling civilization unlike any other had taken up the entirety of the northern half of the continent. Lush river valleys in the center, boggish trade posts in the east, and drier desert-like areas in the west all came together under one central power. The one region the Shimadas couldn’t reach, however, was the south--mountainous, dry, arid land, difficult to conquer and harder still to sustain. It was only when the fourth emperor, Shimada Touma, came to power that--_

 

“Hanzooooooo!” A loud cry interrupted his reading, accompanied by an unmistakeable weight dropped on his back. “Are you reading that boring history book _again_?”

 

Hanzo Shimada sighed, laying his book down and carefully folding the corner of the page. He enjoyed the peace while it lasted, but it seemed it was not to be. Silence never truly remained long in the Shimada palace, courtesy of one Prince Genji. “It is not boring history, brother, it is _our_ history. I’m sure you’ve no idea of how we came to be in these lands. Important lessons can be learned by looking to the past.”

 

Genji held a hand to his chin, considering the point. After a moment, he gave up, waving the same hand as if batting his brother’s wisdom away. “Nah, it’s nothing too important. At least, not to me. I was born here, that’s all I need to know about this place. You’re the one who’s good with politics and all, it’s why father and I keep you around!” He laughed and moved to sit at Hanzo’s side on the common room floor. “Now then, come on! Let’s go outside. It’s such a beautiful day, you can’t waste it here.”

 

“I can and I will. Studying is not wasting the day, much as you are loathe to admit.” Hanzo smirked. “Your lack of discipline will get you in trouble one day, I swear it. Lúcio won’t always be here to bail you out.”

 

Genji started at the jab, pushing his lips out in a pout. “Now that’s just mean. He’s my secretary, not my _babysitter_. I’m nearly twenty six, I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.”

 

Hanzo’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, really? Sometimes I’m not so sure. Tell me again, last week, who is it that brought you back in the early morning? You seemed half out of your mind, if I recall correctly, barely able to stumble home. Let alone rule a country.” He crossed his arms, daring Genji to call him out.

 

“Well, yeah, but,” he sputtered in response. “Oh! At least I can talk to people! Remember when father invited those foreign diplomats over? You were so shy you wouldn’t even say hello!” Genji giggled, leaning heavily on Hanzo’s arm. He knew the best way to get under his brother’s skin was to initiate as _much_ physical contact as possible while poking at his weak points.

 

“I did not feel confident enough in my language studies, that is all. I was not born with the gift of gab, unlike _some_ princes.” Hanzo elbowed him back, shoving Genji away. “That being said, your chattering is annoying me. Either convince me, quickly, or get out so I can finish my _very interesting_ reading.”

 

Genji pouted once more, laying himself across his brother’s lap and placing the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically. “Oh, woe is me, what shall I _do_? That dastardly Hanzo simply refuses to hear me out, such a villain. The worst older brother in all the land, some say. Cold hearted, stone-faced, unwilling to lend an ear in my time of need…”

 

“Oh, fine.” Hanzo sighed, hiding a smile. Genji always had a flair for dramatics, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t amusing. “You’ve had your theatrics. Now, care to tell me what inspired you to interrupt me today? Or did you simply wish to repeat how awful I am as a sibling?”

 

“Hmm. While that _is_ my favorite pastime, I’m afraid I actually have something to do,” Genji shrugged and grinned lazily up at his brother. Like this, it was easy to see why the older mansabdars often compared his mannerisms and expressions to the stray cats that roamed the palace grounds--the same ones he not-so-secretly fed when he thought Hanzo wasn’t looking. “I came to fetch you so we could see the new bard playing in town! Lúcio assures me he is quite renowned for his talent. It may not be...exactly your type of music, but maybe you’ll enjoy it.”

 

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that you want a scapegoat should you be caught again, yes? Or that you wish to see me get chewed out as payback for my, how was it you said, _tattling_ a few weeks ago?” Hanzo raised a single brow, eyes shining with mirth.

 

“Of course not! What sort of brother do you take me to be?” Genji grinned back, the picture of nonchalance. As always, Hanzo’s remarks seemed to slide off of him like water off a duck’s back. He rolled off Hanzo and onto the floor, then jumped up and stretched. “At any rate, we should get going. We have to start now if we want to have time for you to change and all.”

 

Hanzo’s brow furrowed at this. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing currently?”

 

“Are you kidding me? You look like a prince!” Genji put his hands on his hips.

 

“Genji, I _am_ a prince.” Hanzo scoffed, eyes roaming his brother’s own clothes. Though one could easily identify Genji as upper-class by the quality of his robe and trousers, he wasn’t necessarily royal. The _brightness_ of the outfit still left much to be desired, however, the bright orange of his long robe easily standing out. At the very least, Genji had attempted to subvert the intensity with a green-dotted sash looped about his chest and tied about his waist, but the clothing still evoked a sense of importance.

 

“And that, dear brother, is exactly the problem,” he shook his head, offering a hand to help Hanzo up. He accepted, elegantly rising to his feet. “Look, go see Hana. She’ll know _exactly_ what to do. Now go, go. If you’re not back in twenty minutes I’ll drag you into the town square naked.”

 

Hanzo rolled his eyes, used to his brother’s antics. Seeing no option but to obey (at least, no option in which he would retain his sanity), he headed off for Hana’s quarters.

 

The palace itself was large and maze-like to those unfamiliar with it. Hanzo knew it like the back of his hand--each labyrinthian twist was just another detail to his childhood home. It took him few minutes to arrive at Hana’s quarters, located right next to his own. He stood in front of the large wooden door for a moment, bracing himself to knock.

 

Hana was his closest confidant besides his brother. Though she was technically a scribe, she was more than happy to act as Hanzo’s right hand, and Hanzo in turn helped her whenever he could. Her vision of being a mansabdar one day was a far-off dream, but when Hanzo saw the determination in her gaze even _he_ believed she could do it. That being said, that same determinant gaze was what made him hesitant to ask for her help in dressing himself, of all things. Holding his breath, Hanzo steeled himself and finally brought his fist to the door, rapping his knuckles against it twice.

 

The door swung open at such an alarming pace it nearly hit Hanzo right in the nose. He managed to jump back a second before it could, in the process coming face-to-face with the scrunched nose of one Hana Song. The two engaged in a split-second staring contest before Hana broke off with a wide grin, placing her hands on her hips.

 

“Well, to what do I owe the pleasure, your majesty? Need a letter written, some treaty drafted?” She leaned against the doorway casually, her plain white robes swaying with the motion. She’d likely not left her room all day.

 

Coming from anyone else, Hanzo would take it as a sign of immense disrespect. However, he knew how Hana worked by now. Trying to teach her to show any sort of respect--let alone give obeisance--was like trying to convince Genji to study. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.

 

“None of those, fortunately enough for you. I believe you have enough work up your sleeves anyway at the moment.” Hanzo paused for a moment and considered his next words carefully. “I, ah, came for advice. My brother and I are to go out, however my normal robes are apparently too...haute, shall we say. You seemed the right person to consult.” Another pause, this time quite awkward. Hanzo scratched slightly at his cheek. This was an embarrassing situation in _many_ regards.

 

Hana, on the other hand, immediately brightened. “You’re asking _me_ for fashion advice? I never thought I’d see the day!” She stepped forward, pushing past Hanzo and into the hall. “Let’s go see your trunk. We are going to make this _perfect_.”

 

Hanzo followed slowly, bewildered by her enthusiasm and lack of teasing. “I did not take you for the type to be so readily knowledgeable about clothing. I’ve only ever seen you wearing the most basic robes.”

 

“Well _duh_ , I’m your scribe. Us low-born folk can’t exactly waltz around in royal dress. Only nobles can get away with that, as you know,” she winked, pulling the door to Hanzo’s quarters open easily and marching inside. She promptly made her way to the large oak chest where Hanzo kept his spare clothing and threw it open, rifling through it. Hana seemed as though she was going to take awhile, if her deliberating between two very similar shades of white was any hint, so Hanzo sat himself at the edge of his bed in front of a large mirror.

 

He took the moment to look at the outfit Genji had deemed “too royal” to be seen in--looking at himself now, he could definitely see his brother’s point. In contrast to Genji’s plain orange robes, Hanzo’s were complex. Deep blue in color with each crease and seam hemmed in an intricate pattern, cross-stitches shimmering with special string. His trousers were a simple white, but even they were made of softer material than what most commoner’s would wear. Combined with the yellow ribbon tied about his waist and the ceremonial necklaces he wore, anyone with eyes could easily deduce who he was.

 

Hanzo huffed at the thought, shaking his head. _Of course_ they could identify him, that was the point of being a prince. If your people couldn’t recognize you at a glance, what sort of power did you truly hold?

 

Hanzo was snapped out of his reverie when Hana threw a large sky blue robe directly at his face. Luckily his reflexes caught it a moment before, but he glared at her nonetheless. Sticking her tongue out in reply, Hana carried the accompanying trousers (much like the ones he was currently wearing but made of much cheaper fabric) and shoes. After dumping the clothing in an unceremonious heap next to Hanzo she put her hands on her hips triumphantly.

 

“Alright, these should do! Go change so I can give you the final okay. We don’t want to keep Prince Genji waiting, right?” Hana grinned, though the expression morphed into a more thoughtful one a moment later.

 

“Or do we?” she mused, “I’m unsure. Did you want to tick him off today? Since you do plenty of that normally.”

 

“A lesser man would have your tongue chopped off for such words, Ms. Song.” Hanzo stood, gathering the clothing in his arms and making his way to a privacy divider. Though he fought to keep his tone serious, there was an unmistakable fondness evident in his voice.

 

After changing he stepped out and was given a satisfied nod from Hana. The new robes were scratchy, much rougher than the usual fabrics he was used to, but he wouldn’t complain. Luxury could only be afforded at the right times, after all.

 

As if on cue, Genji burst through the door, Lúcio following close behind.

 

“Ready to go, brother?” He grinned, striding towards where Hanzo was standing. “It seems I was right in sending you here. Ms. Song truly has wonderful taste,” he nodded, pleased with the sight before him.

 

“And I don’t suppose my brother bullied you into accompanying us, Lúcio?” Hanzo ignored Genji entirely, turning to the young man in question with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Oh, no, I’ve got far too much work to do here,” he smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “You two have fun, though! I’ll get all the papers in order, no one will even know you were gone. Though some help on that front would be much appreciated...if you could, Hana?” Lúcio turned and elbowed her, his eyebrows raising and lowering furiously.

 

Hana laughed, “Yeah, sure. I could use a break, and I’m under less obligation to finish my work anyway with this old coot gone.” Hanzo merely huffed in response, watching the two exit without further fanfare.

 

Genji grabbed Hanzo’s wrist and tugged. “That’s taken care of, so now there’s no time to waste. Let’s go!”

\---

The capital city of New Hanamura was bustling with activity, as always. Soft sunlight shone down the cobblestone streets and highlighted the crowds looming through. Numerous buildings, old and new, rose amongst the masses, crowding everything in. Only one stood out above the rest--the Shimada Palace, naturally. A pearly white in contrast to the varying shades of red and brown adorning the rest of the city, its high wooden walls made sure it was firmly separated from the common people. That being said, it wasn’t inaccessible. The main gates remained firmly open, inviting anyone and everyone in to see the goings-on of the court. Many came just to visit the famous palace garden, though the cherry blossom trees had not quite yet bloomed.

 

It was through this congested chaos that Hanzo and Genji emerged, gliding through the midday bustle lithely. Genji, ever the impatient one, strode boldly ahead of Hanzo towards their destination. The building was, in a word, dilapidated. Cracks were strewn about the exterior wall and the awning hung low, filled with dust. Despite its ramshackle appearance, the place itself smelled vaguely of rosemary and was placed nicely in the shade, offering reprieve from the harsh sun. The Shimadas slipped in quietly, Genji tilting a nod at the man posted by the door. He grinned in response, seemingly recognizing him. Hanzo made a special note to look into this place later.

 

The inside was warm and humid, but not unpleasantly so. Various incense sticks burned on counters, giving off the rosemary scent Hanzo had identified before. The place itself seemed to be a small cafe-bar hybrid. Low wooden tables were scattered about the room, some with patrons seated on cushions and some empty. There was a slightly raised stage with a young man, likely around Lúcio’s age, sitting upon another cushion. He held a sitar in his arms, light glinting off of it from the few candles situated around him.

 

Genji caught a server’s eye quickly upon entering and he and Hanzo were ushered to one of the tables closest to the stage. Hanzo raised an eyebrow at his brother, but Genji merely shrugged and grinned sheepishly in response.

 

All eyes turned to the stage as the bard cleared his throat and began to pluck at the strings of his sitar. His words flowed easily with the melody, carrying a slow, easy song. Though the words were foreign, anyone could tell the story he was telling wasn’t happy--a sad, melancholy tale. Not what Hanzo had been expecting of his brother, but he found himself being drawn in nonetheless. It was a truly beautiful performance. The low lights and smoky atmosphere, the candlelight winking around the stage, the bard’s low, sweet voice. In a word: it was enchanting.

 

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

 

The song continued, the tone shifting slightly. The words became wistful, a slightly more upbeat melody that carried the nostalgia of long lost happy days. Each note rung through the thick air and hung heavy, saturating the room further. Every foreign word was captivating, combined with the slowly advancing beat.

 

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

 

With each verse the steady beat grew louder and louder as the song picked up its pace. The solitary notes from the beginning melded into a faster melody, a chase, trouble brewing. The tune steadily built up, the bard’s hands moving faster and faster, approaching some sort of grand climax, drawing the audience further and further in--

 

_Thump._

 

The spell was broken when the bard’s song was overpowered by the thunderous clap of booted footsteps approaching. A battalion of armed men stormed into the building, muskets held firmly. One among them stepped out, the badges on his uniform signifying that he was of slightly higher rank than the rest. He held his arm up, pointing directly towards the bard sitting on stage.

 

“Milos Bharata, you are under arrest for high treason against the Shimada Empire. Please come quietly.”

 

The room was silent, shocked, the trance broken.

 

Genji shot to his feet, horror drawn across his face. “What is the meaning of this?!”

 

 

The officer regarded Genji with distaste, the corner of his lips curving downwards. In the low light, it was highly likely he didn’t recognize him at all, despite his bright clothing.

 

“This man is a traitor. He has been accused of conspiring with the Overwatch States, our enemies to the south. As I’m sure you’ve no need of a reminder, I will spare the details of the bloody territory war those disgusting rebels have engaged us in.”

 

The bard--Bharata--seemed startled, but not entirely surprised. He stood quietly, shouldering his sitar and quietly maneuvering to the guards. Genji stepped out to stop him, to help him, to do _something_ , but was interrupted by a firm grip on his shoulder. He turned to see Hanzo shaking his head.

 

“I can’t let you get into a fight over this. Keep yourself above this,” he squeezed Genji’s shoulder. Genji’s brows furrowed and a deep scowl pulled at his lips, but he did as he was told, for once. Getting into an argument with the guard would solve no problems. The two watched as the bard was escorted out of the building, onlookers carefully avoiding eye contact with the so-called traitor.

\---

“It is ridiculous, brother! You saw the way they treated him like...like some _criminal!”_ Genji threw his hands up, pacing back and forth across the palace lounge.

 

Hanzo’s response came with a sigh and a shake of his head, “He was charged with treason, Genji, for all intents and purposes he _is_ a criminal.”

 

“It’s not right! This was a baseless accusation, there was obviously no evidence that he had done anything wrong. Father would never do this, and you know it. The mansabdars are the ones putting these new policies into place. Ever since the war started--”

 

“The skirmish,” Hanzo interrupted.

 

“The skirmish, the war, whatever! Ever since it started, they’ve been exercising their positions to pass stricter and stricter laws. The nobles are never affected but I see at least one arrest per night. We _need_ to keep them in check, Hanzo, who else will? It’s unjust!”

 

Hanzo regarded his brother from the seat he was sprawled upon, reflecting deeply on his next words. He was angry too; past angry, _livid_. Genji was right in every sense of the word. However, what he was saying was dangerous--even as the prince of the empire, controlling the mansabdars often fell to their father. And especially for a prince who nearly never appeared in court…

 

“Genji, I understand your frustrations, but we cannot intervene here. The most we can do is notify father and hope for the best,” he spoke softly, but firmly, huffing a breath through his nose. Genji met Hanzo’s eyes and glared, but Hanzo’s gaze was unyielding. After a moment, Genji broke off with a sigh, collapsing in a seat next to him.

 

“I hate it when you’re sensible. You’re always sensible. I hate you,” he groaned and lay back. “What do we do, then? Our afternoon was ruined and there’s no court being held today to keep you busy.”

 

“Hmm…” Hanzo thought a moment, bringing a hand up to his chin. “Perhaps a game of cards will settle your mind? I know how you enjoy forcing Lúcio and Hana into a round or two when they’ve a light workload,” he grinned.

 

“Oh! That’ll do nicely!” Genji shot up, immediately re-energized. “But just playing is _so_ boring. How about a bet?”

 

He paused for a moment, thinking, before his eyes lit up and he shuffled to sit even more upright. “If I win, you have to sneak out with me for a whole night of drinking, just the two of us. Prince’s honor, no going back on your word, yes?” Genji held out his hand with an eyebrow raised in challenge.

 

Hanzo huffed a short laugh and reached over to shake Genji’s hand. “Fine, it is a deal. Let’s see if your practice has paid off,” he stood and strode over to the vast shelves to locate the cards.

 

He quickly shuffled and brought them back to Genji, allowing him to deal them out. Hanzo made to draw a card from the leftover pile, but was stopped in place by the sound of approaching footsteps. An older gentleman wearing finery indicating he was an upper-ranking mansabdar stepped into the lounge, casting his eye around the room before locating the princes and bowing deeply.

 

“Forgive the interruption, your highness, but I have a matter I simply need to discuss with you. The emperor is quite busy, so he told me to seek out your advice. You see, my property near the southern border has been attacked numerous times recently and is in chaos; collecting my taxes has become nearly _impossible_. Of course that is the short version--we can discuss the rest in detail in a better place, yes?” He wrung his hands together, nervously shifting his gaze about the room. Though his demeanor screamed anxiety, the princes’ eyes were sharper than that; the shuffle of his feet, the tapping of his fingers, his straightened posture, all tics pointing to his actual impatience.

 

Hanzo, for his part, took the interruption with grace. He muttered a quick apology to Genji and stood to join the mansabdar. He was received with another bow as well as an eyebrow raised at his simple attire, but no further comments.

 

As the pair’s footsteps echoed down the hall, Genji slumped further into his seat. Wonderful. This afternoon just kept spiralling down. With nothing to stop him, Genji took a quick peek over at his brother’s cards--a terrible hand. “ _An easy win_ ,” he thought to himself, smirking. Hanzo always had been awful at cards. Though it wasn’t as if he had had much free time to play with Genji lately, let alone talk with him at all.

 

Running an empire was serious business and time for leisure was scarce, especially with the way the skirmishes to the south had been escalating lately. The situation looked bleaker by the day. Genji looked up at the daylight spilling through the windows and took a moment to pray: for himself, for his brother, and for their empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading this first chapter! boy mchowdy, it sure took awhile. this fic is an absolute monster and i have SO much planned for it. it's gonna be a long ride folks. stay tuned, next chapter we get to meet some other characters you might recognize ;0
> 
> a big big big thank you to my lovely betas: [Tala](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingDalish), [Helo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/helo572%0A), and [Semageon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EyesOnSema). they provided wonderful feedback to improve this chapter tremendously <3
> 
> a huge thank you as well to the mchanzo discord! i wouldn't have been able to write this without the inspiration you guys give me, you're all so very wonderful. 
> 
> as always, find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tsoleille) or [tumblr](http://schrodingerslion.tumblr.com/)! i love talking to anyone and everyone who will listen, and i'm always taking prompts. til next time, have a good one!


	2. The Overwatch States

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Prince Jesse McCree and the rest of the Overwatch States

****The desert sun beat down mercilessly on looming red rocks, clouds of dust roaming between the giant formations. A child wandered through the shadows, dwarfed by the sheer size of the canyon around him. His hands clutched tightly at the strap of his satchel and struggled to hold the oversized bag. His feet shuffled among the rocks, step by step, wandering aimlessly. The horizon seemed as if it would stretch out forever.

 

The red rocks and vast skyline disappeared as suddenly as they came, cutting to billowing white cloths and _cold_ . Jesse McCree awoke spitting and sputtering, fighting to sit up and regain his breath. _Someone_ had thought it would be funny to wake him up by dumping a bucket of water on his face. His eyes scanned the room and landed on the offender--none other than one Gabriel Reyes.

 

“Time to get up, mijo. You’ve been sleeping all day.” Gabe remarked, crossing his arms with a smirk.

 

“And you had to wake me up with that shit? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with sleepin’ in a lil’ bit, pops. Had a late night, you know.” Jesse stretched, shaking his hair like a dog. He squinted up at Gabe, eyes still adjusting to the mid-morning light. He was dressed for the day as always, gray robes head to toe and a black shawl that barely covered his curly hair. What it _didn’t_ cover, however, was a very telling dark bruise right where his neck met his shoulders. Jesse grinned and filed the information away to tease him with later.

 

Gabe merely smiled in response and shrugged his shoulders. “You wouldn’t wake up any other way. I’ll leave you to get ready.” He strode out of Jesse’s tent quickly, wordlessly conveying the need for him to get a move on.

 

With a groan, Jesse shuffled to his feet and threw his arms up to stretch. It would be a busy day, mostly filled with talking and political bullshit, but he needed to be ready nonetheless. After picking out some light clothing to combat the harsh desert sun, Jesse wrapped his shoulders up in his favorite shawl and strode out of his tent.

 

The camp they had made was homely, in a word. Surrounded by high desert rock on each side, the little collection of tents was provided with a secure hideaway from the land surrounding it. People bustled to and fro, soldiers from states as far as Amari all the way to Blackwatch. Though most of their army slept in large barrack-like tents together, a few of the officers and higher-ups were allowed the luxury of their own, all of which were situated in a small circle apart from the rest.

 

It was from this small circle that Jesse emerged, only to run directly into a small, blonde figure.

 

“Woah there! My apologies, Angie, wasn’t quite watchin’ where I was headed.” Jesse leaned back on the balls of his feet, apologizing with an easy grin.

 

Angela stared back at him, eyebrow raised. “Oh? Should I be inspecting your eyes next, Prince Jesse? As I recall, last time you paid a visit to the medical tent it was your liver in trouble, not your eyesight.”

 

“Give him a break, dear, he’s likely only just woken up.” Fareeha approached from behind and clapped a hand on Jesse’s back with a wide smile. Jesse flinched--even outside of battle, Fareeha never pulled any punches.

 

“Ya’ll’re so mean to me. ‘M startin’ to think you lot don’t like me one bit. Breaks my heart, y’know, I’m a sensitive fella,” he pouted, scuffing a foot on the dry rocky terrain.

 

Fareeha and Angela shared a look and wrinkled their noses before simultaneously bursting out into laughter.

 

Jesse scowled, crossing his arms. “Alright, alright. Y’had your laugh at me. Let’s go get breakfast and give someone else some shit for a change, yeah?”

 

“Very well. After you?” Fareeha gestured her arm forward, allowing Angela to walk ahead. She replied with a snort and a shake of her head, taking her fiancée’s hand in hers to drag her along. Jesse followed with a soft smile, used to being the odd man out among them.

 

Upon arriving at the mess hall, they found this morning’s meal in full swing. A long line stretched along both ends of the tent, each leading to a station with a hearty porridge-like food being served. The center of the room was taken up by circles of people chatting and enjoying their food while seated on the ground, cushioned by lightweight fabrics they’d brought from their homes further south.

 

After retrieving their food, Jesse, Angela, and Fareeha scanned the room for any available seats, eventually spotting Jack and Gabriel sitting next to each other in the center, mid-conversation. Jesse trotted over, leaving Angela and Fareeha to trail behind.

 

“We’ve talked about this, Gabe. I think a merger would really work! I mean, look at our coalition right now,” Jack gestured around the room. “We’re working together so wonderfully. We should at least _try_ it. Both Blackwatch and Overwatch would be better off, I’m telling you.”

 

Gabe sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “And I’m telling you, Jack, I just don’t see it. I know my own people, it’s not the right time. I don’t want any more tension than we already have built up among the men.”

 

“Gabe--”

 

“Heya Jack! G’mornin’!” Jesse interrupted cheerfully, sliding in next to Gabe (and kicking up a cloud of dust in the process). “Wonderful night last night, _huh?_ Sure looks like you two enjoyed yourself plenty, _right_?” Jesse elbowed at Gabe’s side, waggling his eyebrows furiously.

 

Jack’s face bloomed into a bright red, but Gabriel merely scowled. “Oye, Jesse, I didn’t raise you to be so _crass._ Show some respect, huh? I’ll put you on janitorial duty next if you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

 

Jesse began to pout and opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by Jack. “Aw, c’mon Gabe. No need to be so harsh. Plus, if he’s on janitor duty we’re the ones that have to deal with the smell.” He laid a soft kiss on Gabe’s cheek, nudging him with his shoulder. Gabe’s scowl remained, but if his low grumble was anything to go by it seemed Jesse was off the hook for now.

 

They were soon joined by Fareeha and Angela, who knew to greet Jack and Gabriel with considerably more respect.

 

“Chief Reyes, Commander Morrison, good morning.” Fareeha tossed a lazy salute to the two and took a seat next to Jesse, shooting him a pointed glare. Angela settled down next to her while trying to hide a grin.

 

“A good morning to you too, Lieutenant Amari. I take it you slept well? Yesterday’s training was fairly intense.” Gabe responded with a smile. “Then again, I’m sure Doctor Ziegler here made sure you were in top shape.”

 

“Of course she did, she’s the pride and joy of our state,” Jack cut in, beaming. “You’ll not find a better doctor in the entire continent.”

 

Angela blushed at the praise, stirring at her porridge. “Thank you, you’re too kind. But oh, Commander Morrison, I’ve been meaning to ask you: do you know what the meeting today is about?” She looked up, head tilted slightly. “It was called so suddenly, and while it’s common to have war council it did seem a bit abrupt.”

 

Jack shook his head. “Unfortunately not. Captain Amari has all the details and she refused to divulge anything until later today.”

 

“It’s not uncommon for my mother to be like that,” Fareeha spoke up and laid a comforting hand on Angela’s knee. “We will find out soon enough, yes?”

 

“I suppose,” she sighed.

 

“Speaking of tasks for the day,” Gabe cut in, “I’ve got some assignments for the lot of you until the captain is ready for us. Dr. Ziegler, you’re in the medical tent, no surprise. Fareeha, your mother wanted you to oversee target practice among the younger recruits. Jesse, you’re to take inventory in the armory.”

 

“Seriously? You’re always stickin’ me with the worst shit, I swear.” Jesse groaned, leaning back on his hands.

 

“That’s because I trust you, mijo. I know you’ll always do a good job with the shitty tasks.” Gabriel reached over and mussed his hair, much to Jesse’s chagrin.

 

He batted Gabriel’s hands away, frowning at the knowing smiles he was getting from the others. “Alright, alright, I get it. Inventory will be taken, yes sir.”

 

“Good.”

\---

Hours later, Jesse sat in the armory, sorting through various guns, swords, spears, and other weapons. It wasn’t difficult work, but it certainly was _boring_ \--tallying numbers on a sheet was not exactly how he envisioned spending his day.

 

“‘Take inventory,’ he says.” Jesse muttered, aggressively ticking off a box. “‘I trust you,’ he says. ‘You’ll do a good job,’ he says. Fuckin’ horseshit.” He kicked a box of knives perched on a shelf next to him, rattling the contents dangerously. Setting the paper in his hands down with a sigh, he put his hands on his hips and glanced around again.

 

The Overwatch States weren’t underfunded, per se, but they were certainly no Shimada Empire. It was a lofty mission Morrison, Reyes, and Amari had taken on, no doubt about it. Jesse was surprised they’d even managed to amass this much support--while the States were always structured around the military, the people’s will was usually put first. And while the people certainly expressed distaste at the ever-growing Shimada border, it wasn’t exactly a problem necessitating an entire war effort. Yet, the campaigns had run anyway, leading to a camp out in the middle of the desert and a very bored young prince surrounded by weapons.

 

Jesse knew there was something he had to be missing. This huge campaign couldn’t come about out of thin air, no matter how powerful the empire seemed. Every attempt he’d made to pressure Gabe into talking had fallen through, and he rarely had time alone with Jack. He didn’t even want to _think_ about trying to pull one over on Ana, the wonderful, terrifying woman that she was. No, he was left with his own puzzlings.

 

His own puzzlings and something else, Jesse noticed. As his eyes roamed the room they eventually settled on something out of place--a dusty old book. He picked up the tome up off its resting place on one of the spear shelves gently and dusted it off, cleaning the thick layer of rocks and dirt that had settled on it. He didn’t recognize the book as any he’d seen before, especially strange considering how intent Gabe was on teaching him about the literary world when he was younger.

 

With a shrug, he cracked it open, another puff of dust rising from the pages. Jesse frowned at what he found--the thing was entirely unreadable, written in some strange scribble-like characters he couldn’t decipher. What he could understand, however, were the pictures, as whoever the mysterious author was had been kind enough to include various illustrations along with their writings. Thoroughly intrigued, Jesse flipped through the pages, scanning them as he went.

 

The first chapter of the book was filled with various fantastical images of great serpent-like creatures. As the story progressed, the serpents changed into human form, shown with crowns and long flowing robes. A group of shadowed figures then appeared and drove off the serpent-turned-people, who fled to the west. This had to be some sort of fairytale, Jesse figured.

 

The fantastical drawings then turned into maps, official cartography of the continent the Overwatch States and Shimada Empire were situated on. As the pages went on, the borders slowly morphed and changed, interrupted every now and then by a portrait of some regal looking ruler. Each portrait differed from the last, but they all shared one noticeable aspect--striking dark eyes that seemed to stare right through the paper.

 

About halfway through, the content of the drawings changed once more. They seemed to be depicting the daily lives of the various royals portrayed in the portraits, from court sittings to public festivities. There were also numerous family portraits included, all very stoic and serious.

 

As Jesse approached the end of the tome, the pictures grew fewer and farther in between. Another royal portrait of a man sitting ramrod straight, various activities--then, a missing page. Jesse ran his fingers carefully along the spine where scraps of the page stuck out, examining it carefully. If he were to follow the pattern set up by the previous pictures, the missing one would likely be some sort of group portrait, or at least a depiction of a family.

 

Immediately following the torn page, only one picture remained. Unlike the portraits, it wasn’t photorealistic--instead, it seemed a mix of the earlier fairytale pictures and the activity images. It depicted...well, Jesse actually wasn’t quite sure. It seemed to be a woman, dressed in many layers of finery, tripping upon her skirts while descending a large stone staircase. Her mouth was parted in a horrified gasp, hands reaching out to catch herself. Her features seemed somewhat familiar--she had those same dark eyes, as all the rest--but her clothes were what really caught Jesse’s attention. The front clasp of her robes was a very detailed, familiar, ornate sigil. Jesse brought the book up to look closer…

 

“Jesse! What are you doing?” Angela’s voice called in, jerking him out of his thoughts. In his surprise he nearly dropped the tome, but managed to safely catch it after fumbling with it for a moment.

 

“‘M takin’ inventory like Reyes said to! What’s it look like I’m doin’, Angie?” He yelled back.

 

Angela swept into the tent, hands on her hips and an eyebrow raised. “It looks like you’re forgetting about the meeting. We don’t want to keep Captain Amari waiting, yeah?” She smiled.

 

Jesse shook his head quick as he could. “No ma’am. Gimme a mo’ to get everythin’ in order here and I’ll be right with you.”

 

Satisfied with his answer, Angela nodded and walked off. Jesse let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and turned back to the tent. Inventory could wait for now--the wrath of Chief Reyes was much less than that of Captain Amari. Quickly stuffing both the inventory sheet and the tome he’d found into a satchel at his waist, Jesse double checked to make sure the tent was in working order and strode through the tent flaps.

\---

Upon entering the meeting tent, Jesse was greeted with a familiar sight. Gabriel, Jack, and Fareeha were seated around a large map while Ana paced at the head of the table, staring down at the paper grimly. The map depicted the current borders of the Shimada Empire and Overwatch States in all their glory, fully detailed with terrain and elevation. Various notes and flags were inserted into it, telltale markers of strategy meetings past. Angela and Jesse settled into their places in the circle quickly, sharing a hasty look.

 

The air in the tent felt thicker, fuller, more crowded despite the fact that there were only six of them present. Gabe and Jack sat stock still, while Fareeha couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting and Ana paced incessantly.

 

A moment ticked by, silent, tense.

 

Gabriel nodded at Ana. She gave him a curt nod back and cleared her throat.

 

“So, I’m sure you’re wondering what I’ve called this meeting about,” she began, finally standing still. “I’ve received some...interesting news.”

 

“What kind of interesting news?” Angela questioned, head tilted.

 

Ana paused a moment and took a deep breath.

 

“Word has it the emperor is sick.”

 

The silence returned.

 

“How sick?” Jack asked, leaning forward. All eyes in the room were trained on Ana now, her mouth set in a grim line.

 

“Dying, Jack. The emperor is dying. His staff estimate he has one year left to live.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading once again! Sorry this one was kind of short. 
> 
> Finally, we get introduced to the rest of the cast. This is the last of the exposition for now; next chapter is when the action starts up! 
> 
> Stay tuned, and have a wonderful holiday season!


	3. First Meetings

Genji vastly preferred the small town markets of the south to New Hanamura’s own bustling streets. The people down here were more sincere and to the point--no fake smiles, no hidden meanings, just pure honesty. Of course, the fact that few people down here recognized him helped too.

 

Despite his love for the hot, lively streets, Genji also found himself in a bit of a dilemma. He had made the journey down here to meet with a contact, an old friend of his who boasted that his herbs could ease the emperor’s pain. Ever since the rest of the empire caught wind of their father’s condition, the entire capital had been in a mad scramble to find a cure, so a trip away from the chaos seemed like a blessing. 

 

Now, however, he wasn’t so sure.

 

The marketplace was absolutely labyrinthian--between the crowds and building structures, Genji wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t just walking in one big circle. Asking for help was out of the question as well. Not only was it impossible to find someone to ask, but even if he did manage to hail a kind stranger he ran the risk of being recognized, which would only complicate things even further. 

 

A hard shove cut off his thoughts suddenly, sending both him and the stranger who had nearly run him over sprawling to the ground. Genji stood up after a moment, glancing over at the offender, who was hobbling to his feet. He was certainly an...interesting fellow. Wrapped in a beat-up red shawl, the man’s dark skin and roguish appearance labeled him immediately as someone from further south. Not to mention his hair, which looked like it hadn’t been groomed in several weeks…

 

Yeah, he was a mess. A very intriguing mess. 

 

“Oh, shit, ‘m super sorry! Wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’, honest,” he explained, a sheepish grin crossing his face. “Hey wait a mo’...you look pretty damn familiar. Have we met somewhere before?”

 

Genji let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He could play this off, maybe learn something about the stranger while he was at it. 

 

“Uh, no. Never before. Say, though, what are you doing here? You certainly aren’t local,” he remarked, eyes making another quick pass of the stranger’s attire. 

 

The stranger placed his hands on his hips with a sunny grin. “Information, mostly. Heard somethin’ bout the emperor bitin’ the bullet, you know? Seemed like somethin’ worth checkin’ out.”

 

Genji raised an eyebrow, head tilting to the side. Was this guy for real? “...Right. And you thought the marketplace a good place for gathering information because…?”

 

“Lots of people? Last time I was here it wasn’t nearly as hectic, you know.” The man sighed. “Oh, shit, where’re my manners? Name’s Jesse,” he said, holding his hand out.  

 

Genji stopped for a moment, hesitating. On one hand, if he continued on he was taking a huge risk. He didn’t know this man one bit, and he could be dangerous. On the other, he was really curious, and the stranger--Jesse--seemed like he genuinely wanted to get to know him. 

 

His decision was quick. 

 

“Genji. A pleasure,” he smiled, reaching out and firmly shaking Jesse’s hand. 

 

Jesse’s eyes lit up at the gesture, his grin spreading wider. “Interestin’ name you got. Parents named you after the prince, huh?”

 

“You could say that, yeah.” 

 

“Well, either way it’s certainly a pleasure to meet you as well. Now, I feel mighty bad about bumpin’ into you like that back there. What say I take you for a drink to make up for it? This weather’s got me workin’ up an almighty thirst, and the market’ll be here all day.” He gestured toward a nearby bar. The place didn’t seem like the lap of luxury, but it wasn’t a hole in the wall either. Safe enough. 

 

“Thank you, Jesse. That is very kind,” Genji replied. He allowed Jesse to take the lead towards the bar, following silently as his new companion began to make idle conversation. They say first impressions are deceiving, but this guy really did seem like a chatterbox. An eclectic, very strangely dressed chatterbox. 

 

The inside of the bar was much like the outside in that it was entirely ordinary--dim lighting, neither exceedingly fancy nor dirty, but comfortable enough. Jesse found them two cushions in a hollowed out corner in the restaurant, just private enough to have a conversation but not invisible. 

 

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you arrive here? The south isn’t exactly known for being so stable these days.” Genji asked, calmly folding his legs beneath him. 

 

Jesse sighed, settling down cross-legged on his own cushion. “Well, things ain’t too bad. The war’s a pain, sure, but if you know the right paths you can avoid all the fightin’. Real damn shame, though.”

 

“I know what you mean. Such senseless fighting is a bane to both our empire and the Overwatch States.” He shook his head, mind reeling back to what had happened at the bar all those weeks ago. The look of fear in that bard’s eyes, the horrified gasps from the citizens--it had sparked something in him, a small flame fanned by injustice. Unfortunately, due to his father’s condition he hadn’t found time to act on it just yet. 

 

“Sure is,” Jesse nodded. “Real stupid reasonin’ too. Heard the empire ain’t even know what the rebels are after, jus’ that they refused to give up their lands. Jumped the gun a bit on startin’ this whole mess, huh?”

 

“In a way. Though, I find it is hardly the emperor’s fault,” Genji hummed. “He is simply too busy with other matters, so the delegates who find themselves in charge of the situation can act without fear of repercussion.” 

 

“Ah, yeah, the mansabdars. Still, emperor’s gotta take some sort of responsibility. S’his government after all, y’know?”

 

“True, but he cannot be expected to perfectly control so many people. There are many schemers amongst the Shimada empire’s upper ranks, as I’m sure you could guess.” He kept his voice carefully even, nails digging into his palms underneath the table. 

 

“Really? You don’t say…” Jesse rubbed at his chin, considering the information. 

 

Despite doing his best to pretend otherwise, Jesse was extremely attentive--Genji could see his eyes flickering with each statement, no doubt noting them down in his own head. By any other account, his actions would seem precise, clinical. As if each move Jesse had made was for a specific purpose. However, one glance at the man himself dispelled all such thoughts; there he was, scraggy as hell, grinning like a fool. This was either a terrible coincidence, or Genji had accidentally fallen right into someone’s hands.

 

And he was supposed to be good at reading people. 

 

“Why you lookin’ so pale there, partner? Somethin’ on your mind?” Jesse shifted, eyebrows raised. 

 

Genji scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed at leaving his expression so open. “Ah, I was simply wondering why you chose to sit here of all places. It seems a bit...removed, don’t you agree?”

 

“Well, that’d be because I was hopin’ you’d be honest if no one else could hear us, Prince Genji. Ain’t a man got a right to have a private conversation?” Jesse said. There was a shift in him at those words, one that Genji couldn’t place for better or worse. He was still smiling, but it wasn’t exactly the kindly one he wore before--this one had an edge to it, a sharpness that carried with it an inherent danger. With his back straight and eyes gleaming, Jesse seemed much more like a wild predator than a scruffy stranger. 

 

If there were a single part of Genji that thought to deny his identity, it dissipated right then and there. He felt his heart stop, breath running short. This could be it. Right here, right now, Prince Genji Shimada could meet his end.

 

Would he want to go out like this?

 

He let out a short bark of a laugh, grin widening, “And what were you hoping to have me confess? You have my thanks for not jumping me in the middle of the street, though if this is a set up I’m afraid I cannot go easy on you.” 

 

“A set up?” Jesse rubbed at his chin. “No, not really. I mean, s’pose it is just a bit. Like I said, I want answers, information. Wanna see what makes you tick, little Shimada. Ain’t ever met one of you big nobles anywhere but the battlefield before, you know?”

 

“Battlefield…” 

 

The realization struck him like one of Hanzo’s arrows.

 

“No way! You’re Jesse McCree!” Genji gaped, eyes wide. He could hardly believe it. Here was  _ the  _ Jesse McCree, prince of the Blackwatch State, sitting right here in front of him. 

 

This was  _ amazing. _

 

“Yessir, the one and only,” he chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “Judgin’ by your reaction, I’m fixin’ to say that you ain’t dismayed at that news?”

 

“Hardly,” Genji snorted. “Contrary to public opinion, I know what is happening in my own country. I know what you and your colleagues have been doing, Prince Jesse, and I am aware of what the mansabdars have been doing to counter such things.” 

 

He paused, thinking over his next words carefully. This was it, his big chance. A way to help his country without betraying his father, his brother, his dynasty. 

 

“That being said, I find myself...appreciating your cause. Perhaps not the bloodshed, though you are rumored to be quite the warrior. I’ve seen firsthand the greed of those in our government, the corruption that plagues us. I think we have need of your help. Not necessarily in the way you have been providing it, mind you, but I am not prideful enough to let the opportunity go when it has presented itself so nicely.” 

 

Jesse settled back on his cushion and breathed out a sigh. “Well, you took the words right outta my mouth, sir. Honestly, I wasn’t expectin’ this to be nearly as easy as you made it. From the moment you opened your mouth ‘bout the war, you were so sincere I thought I mighta grabbed the wrong fella. Now I’m just mighty glad to see you’re not a stuck up lil’ prick like your mansabdars. You ever hear those guys talkin’ to their troops? Fuckin’ pain in the ass, I tell you.” 

 

“Oh believe me, I have plenty of stories,” he snickered. Genji wouldn’t show it, but he was more than relieved that he and Jesse seemed to be on the same page. “I’m relieved as you are that we could share such opinions. Violence isn’t something I enjoy if it can be avoided. Though, your dishonesty with me leaves something to be desired. I recommend keeping your scheming to a minimum if we truly are to work together.” 

 

Truthfully, Jesse’s acting scared Genji more than he cared to admit. Perhaps it was just because the members of court were so transparent, but it had been quite some time since he had met someone so hard to place. If Jesse really did plan on double crossing him somewhere down the line, it was nearly impossible to tell. He’d have to stay alert. 

 

Jesse smirked. “Can’t make no promises, princeling. Now, what do you say I take you back and give you a tour of the camp? You can meet some of our leaders and maybe we can work out some kinda deal. End this dumbass war once and for all, yeah?” 

 

“I would love to,” Genji responded, firmly shaking Jesse’s outstretched hand. He had to remain cautious, but not overly so. It was a fine line to walk, but Genji felt deep in his soul that if he didn’t play the game in the first place, he couldn’t win it. His country needed him.

 

He wasn’t sure if Hanzo would be proud or if he would kill him. 

 

Maybe both.

\---

The knock at his chamber door startled Hanzo awake. Judging by the light sifting through the windows, it was early evening--it would seem he had fallen asleep on top of his paperwork. After making a note to berate himself for such behavior later, he gathered himself to his feet and strode to the door. 

 

Hana stood on the other side, mouth set in a grim line. “Prince Hanzo, a letter arrived for you. I’ve been told it’s of great importance.” 

 

Hanzo’s blood ran cold. Hana’s playful demeanor irked him at times, but it was also a solid indicator that there was nothing serious that required her attention. To see her eyes gleaming with determination like this…

 

He cleared his throat forcefully, taking the letter with a gracious smile. “Thank you, Ms. Song. You may return to your duties.”

 

She nodded and turned to leave, but paused for a moment. There was a change in her expression then, something Hanzo couldn’t quite place. If he didn’t know her better, he’d be inclined to say it was pity. 

 

“Take care upon reading that, prince. I do not believe you’ll like its contents,” she muttered. With that, she turned on her heel and strode back to her own quarters. 

 

Hanzo closed the door and returned to his desk, now thoroughly intrigued. Not one to waste time, he quickly grabbed a small blunted knife and tore the letter open. He unfurled the paper inside as quickly as he could and began scanning it, eyes jumping from word to word.

 

_...Prince Genji... _

 

_...Overwatch States... _

 

_...kidnapped... _

 

There’s a certain feeling to be had when one receives bad news about a loved one. A heavy pit in the stomach, tearful eyes, a tight chest. Absence of breath and maybe even hysteria, panic.

 

Prince Hanzo Shimada experienced none of those things. 

 

What Hanzo experienced was a burning, a blinding rage so consuming he hardly remembered the events that followed. A smashed glass, a crumpled letter. Feet mindlessly guiding him down the halls, the confused glances of many guards. The large oak doors looming before him, usually so imposing but now just another obstacle. 

 

His father, pale and sickly, swaddled in pillows on his bed. 

 

“Father,” Hanzo panted, approaching his side with a bow. “I have...I have terrible news.” 

 

“Worse than that of my imminent death?” Sojiro Shimada smiled, strained but genuine. 

 

“Father, please. This is absolutely serious.” Hanzo huffed. ”Genji has been taken captive by the Overwatch States--he left to meet a contact in the south and never returned. The locals say they saw him with a strangely dressed man, believed to be the prince of the Blackwatch State. He’s likely being held as a hostage.”

 

The emperor was silent for a long moment while he took the message in. Hanzo knew this was no symptom of his illness--his father was well known for the long thoughts he would have, tactical strategies warring in his mind while the rest of the world spun on.

 

Finally, he seemed to reach a conclusion, eyes drifting up to lock with Hanzo’s. “You must retrieve him.” 

 

“But father, the capital--”

 

“Hush. The capital will be fine. I am not dead quite yet.” Sojiro frowned and reached out to grip Hanzo’s hand in his, squeezing tightly. “ _ You _ must go. I trust no one else with this task. Take a small army and make the journey south. Retrieve your brother and return, that is all.”

 

It was absolutely absurd. He couldn’t leave the capital in this state--even with the emperor still alive and kicking, the mansabdars would no doubt sense this moment of weakness and take advantage. The government could fall to shambles in the few days it would take him to make the trip and return. 

 

And yet, when Hanzo looked at his father, he couldn’t find it within himself to say no. 

 

“Very well. I will return as soon as I can, father. May you remain in good health until then.” He spoke, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. It still wasn’t right to do this, he knew, but he had little choice. 

 

The emperor merely smiled. “I wouldn’t exactly say I’m in good health at the moment, but I’ll try. Now go, you haven’t any time to waste.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! Y'all have my absolute sincerest apologies for how long this chapter took. I got caught up in writing another series during winter break, and then school started again, and now midterms have been kicking my ass...anyway, you're an angel if you've stuck through. Have a wonderful day!


	4. A Deal is Struck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji meets the crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright first of all, I would like to extend my sincerest apologies for the 6 month gap in update! School mcmurdered me, and just about all my motivation for writing this particular fic left me. But now, it's back! Please enjoy!

The Overwatch States were different from what Genji had been expecting.

 

Large, looming desert rock? Well known.

 

A bustling, crowded canyon space, filled to the brim with soldiers? Not so much.

 

The Shimada Empire was known for both their military might and incredible mercy (for the right price), but never had Genji seen so many civilians in a war camp before. At least, he assumed they were civilians; this many people would easily populate a small town on one of the southern borders, and there was no way the Overwatch States had this many in their army. 

 

“Fox got your tongue, princeling? Or is the sight of our dingy lil’ resistance camp just too beautiful to gaze upon with those royal eyes of yours?” Jesse nudged at Genji’s shoulder, a playful smirk on his face. He played at being confident, but his tells were obvious--the way his eyes darted from shadow to shadow, the tension leaking from his shoulders the further they got into camp, the suspicious glance he would steal at Genji when he thought he wasn’t looking.

 

If he hadn’t duped Genji so thoroughly before, he’d almost feel proud at this deduction. But Jesse McCree was no fool: if Genji was noticing these things, it was because Jesse thought the information trivial enough to let slide. 

 

“I am simply astonished at the sheer number of people you brought with you,” Genji finally replied, eyes jumping from a group of teenagers cooking lunch to a vendor selling colorful robes. “Was it really necessary? Are the Overwatch States so understaffed that merchants and children are necessary on the path to war?”

 

Jesse laughed, the sound carrying easily in the arid desert air. “Oh Shimada, ain’t you the cutest. Each and every person here is a vital part of our army. Most all of our citizens are trained warriors, y’know, right from the moment they’re of age. How else would we go up against the big ol’ militias you send our way, huh?”

 

Genji blinked and cast another gaze around them. Jesse wasn’t lying; indeed, every person seemed able-bodied and at least somewhat competent enough to pick up a spear. Still, to see the sheer size of their armament...it was impressive, to say the least.

 

“Very well.” He nodded and looked ahead. Jesse was leading them towards a smaller circle of tents apart from the rest. While visually identical to the rest of the camp, it was easy to tell that access to this area was limited to a select few. 

 

Before Genji could ask about it, however, Jesse had picked up the pace and left him (quite literally) in the dust. By the time he caught up with Jesse’s long strides, they had arrived in front of the largest tent in the circle. 

 

While Genji caught his breath, Jesse threw open the flaps to the tent and strolled in with an exaggerated swagger in his step and a wide grin on his face. As if that wasn’t enough, he raised his voice and shouted, “Hey guys! Look who I found!” 

 

Five pairs of eyes turned to meet them. 

 

A tall, dark man edged forward first. The lines of his face were severe and mottled with various scars, but his eyes were kind. “...Jesse. Is this who I think it is?”

 

“Well you see--”

 

“Jesse McCree, you did  _ not  _ just bring a fucking  _ Shimada _ into our council tent!” Another man stepped forward, this one fair-skinned and blonde-haired. In stark contrast to the other man, his features were soft and considerate, but his eyes held little to no sympathy. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

 

Jesse merely placed a hand on his hip and shook his head. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, I got it all figured out. Y’see, Genji here--”

 

“Oh, so now he’s Genji? No Prince, no title, just another buddy of yours?” Blondie crossed his arms and scowled fiercely. Genji couldn’t help but notice he flared his nostrils just like Hanzo when he was cross. “He’s the goddamn enemy! Do you know how stupid you are? You just lead the son of the guy we’re trying to depose to the  _ heart _ of our encampment, the one place that’s supposed to be safe from the Shimada raids. What in the name of our ancestors were you thinking?!”

 

A thick silence settled over the tent then, near suffocating in its tension. 

 

Genji scanned the room while the chance was afforded to him, eyes jumping among the people gathered there. Aside from the two men who had already spoken, there were three women. The oldest one had sharp features and a sharper gaze, though she was gazing at Jesse with something Genji could only describe as disappointment (much like his brother, she wore it well). Of the two younger, one looked similar to the sharp woman, while the other was even more pale than the blonde man. They watched each other, eyes nervously shifting from Jesse to the blonde man and back. 

 

Seemed like he’d have to take one for the team. 

 

“Prince Jesse is not at fault.”

 

A shift in attention; six pairs of eyes now on him. 

 

Genji coughed. “If you would allow me to explain, I can assure you that Prince Jesse did not make an error in bringing me here. In fact, I would say I am in the most disadvantageous position here.”

 

The blonde man’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? And why exactly would we believe you, Shimada?”

 

“Well to be frank, I am in an enemy encampment surrounded by hundreds of top class soldiers who have been giving my father’s armies a run for their money for months now. If I were to even attempt something, I imagine I would be killed before I could so much as blink. Is that not correct?” Genji smiled, tilting his head slightly. It was nice to talk to someone more straightforward than Jesse--he didn’t have to worry about being minutely analyzed, or picked apart. It was definitely a confidence booster to be back in familiar territory.

 

Well, as familiar as one could be in the heart of an enemy encampment. 

 

Just as the blonde man geared up to respond once more, the darker man placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Jack, calm down. He has a point. Let’s hear the kid out, yeah?”

 

Jack sighed and relented. “Fine. I trust your judgement, Gabe. This better be good, though.” 

 

“Thank you,” Genji said, bowing deeply. “To put it simply, I have discovered we hold much of our goals in common. Prince Jesse has informed me that the Overwatch States wish to see a change in the Shimada Empire’s governance, particularly our foreign and civil policies. I assure you that I am no idiot. I’m sure you have heard, but my father is extremely ill. Currently, the balance of power throughout our political structure has been thrown into disorder. The crown, that is my brother and I, are much too focused on military campaign to oversee domestic disputes. The task then falls to our various mansabdars who...well, let us just say corruption is not an uncommon term among courtroom gossip.” 

 

“So the prince is losing power, and he wants to make a deal to get it back. Sorry to say, but that’s not exactly what we’re aiming for,” Jack groused. 

 

Genji couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled from his throat. “You misunderstand me. Power is not the true end to my cause.” He crossed his arms and leveled a gaze at the rebels gathered in front of him. 

 

It was now or never. 

 

“I seek an alliance with the Overwatch States.” 

 

If it could have, Jack’s law would have hit the floor. “You seek a  _ what?!” _

 

“An alliance. With our cause.” The sharp-faced woman spoke up. “It makes sense. He wishes to bring peace and stability back to his country. His home faction has their own interests at heart, and support for the crown is relatively low. He has no power with which to subdue us in a war effort right now; for that, he’d need the full assistance of his father.” She stopped for a moment and brought a hand to her chin, considering. “I say we trust him. Genji Shimada has shown nothing but contempt for the current state of affairs. I see no reason why he would go about faking that, especially within the capital.” 

 

“Agreed,” Gabe said. “His actions warrant some sort of deal, at the very least.” 

 

“Wait--my actions?” Genji blinked, momentarily stunned. “You mean to tell me you’ve been  _ spying  _ on me? For how long? How did you even manage that?”

 

“Don’t underestimate us southerners. Got eyes ‘n ears everywhere, y’know.” Jesse grinned.

 

Genji returned the smile with a light shove at Jesse’s shoulder. “Color me impressed then, southerner.”  

 

“Good to see you two getting along,” the woman cut in, her grin feral. “Now then, let us get to details.”

 

They came to an agreement rather quickly, at least by Genji’s standards. Perhaps he was so used to the hour-long debates of the court that their father often indulged in. He still didn’t know how Hanzo managed to so regularly attend while maintaining his sanity--the price he paid had been his sense of humor, he supposed.

 

The deal was rather simple. Genji would return to the capital and monitor the situation from there, sending letters to the Overwatch States detailing information and new plans that would inevitably arrive. The messages would be delivered by a trusted courier and hold the seal of Genji’s household, not the royal seal. Further plans and ties to be forged within the alliance would be debated through mail as events proceeded. 

 

“I will notify my brother of our plans as soon as I return to the capital,” Genji said. “He is a good man, and loves our empire more than anyone else. I have no doubt that he will agree with this plan once he understands the situation.”  _ If I can explain things to him before he murders me.  _

 

“Are you sure? We don’t want anyone to know about this other than those necessary.” Jack frowned and cast a suspicious look towards Genji. He wondered if the blonde’s face was always stuck in that twisted little grimace.

 

“It is necessary. My brother and I work as a team--without him, this plan will not succeed.”

 

Ana smiled. “Good to hear. Family is very important.” She stood and surveyed the room one last time. Genji wasn’t sure what she was looking for, or at, but whatever she saw must have satisfied her. “Meeting adjourned, everyone. Jesse, Fareeha, Angela, please escort the young prince elsewhere. We have much to discuss.” 

 

The three nodded and ushered Genji out of the tent quickly. The midday sun was harsh and unforgiving, glaring off of the stark white sheets of tents around them as well as the dust at their feet. He wondered if the desert continued on like this further south, directly into the Overwatch States’ territory, or if there were valleys that drew the temperature to a more mild range. 

 

The Overwatch States...certainly an interesting bunch. Genji had spent his whole life surrounded by snakes, two-faced men and women with little interest in others beyond manipulating them to their own gains. He was used to reading people, their words, their actions, their expressions. The Overwatch States, though, were an entirely different beast. The people here hid their intentions, but not in the conniving ways he was used to. Their suspicions were defensive rather than aggressive, a method of protection. It was interesting, to say the least. If he had more time, he would have loved to get to know them better. Perhaps even study their culture. 

 

He was startled out of his reverie by a tap on his shoulder. “Prince Genji?” 

 

It was the small blonde woman--Angela, he believed. 

 

“Yes?” he responded with a radiant smile, grateful for his quick reflexes. 

 

Angela didn’t seem as impressed. “Are you alright? You were staring off into space.”

 

“Aw, lay off ‘im Angie. S’probably just the heat, yeah?” Jesse cut in. “C’mon, let’s show you around. Think I got somethin’ that’ll interest you.” 

 

Fareeha raised a brow. “You don’t mean…?”

 

“That’s  _ exactly  _ what I mean.”

 

Genji looked between the three curiously. Though he had no clue what they were talking about, he knew it wouldn’t be anything dangerous. It had only been a cursory introduction, but Genji was sure of it; these weren’t bad people. Capable, skilled, fierce warriors, yes. Highly intelligent and tactful minds, yes. But their hearts were kind. 

 

Hopefully Hanzo would be able to see the same.  

\---

“Woah, Angie, what’s the deal?” Jesse grumbled as Angela yanked him outside by the arm. They’d taken Genji to his little  _ surprise,  _ and were all waiting dutifully when she had suddenly announced that they had a matter to discuss. Fareeha stayed in the tent with Genji as the chemicals dried, so he wasn’t totally unsupervised, but Jesse still didn’t appreciate the harsh treatment. 

 

“We need to talk, Jesse.” Angela huffed and crossed her arms. Jesse was struck again by how much her personality contributed to her bedside manner: always caring, yet stubborn as all hell. “You are sure about all this? About...Prince Genji?”

 

Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

 

She paused before beginning again, taking a moment to think carefully through her words. “Well, you might be  _ persuaded,  _ if you catch my meaning. He does fit the bill.”

 

“What bill?”

 

“Dark eyes, muscular build, charming smile. Has trouble written all over him. If his hair were a little longer there’d be no doubt in my mind.” 

 

Jesse groaned--of  _ course _ it came to this. Angela always loved meddling, but to this extent…

 

“No, Angie, no. I’m not  _ persuaded.  _ You think I’d forsake my damn country for a piece of ass?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I ain’t that stupid. He’s a fine fella, but it’s not like that. This is an alliance for the sake of our nation's future.”

 

Angela’s stare was skeptical, at best. But she wouldn’t win this fight, so she relented. “If you say so. I just hope for all of our sakes that he keeps to his word.”

 

“Me too, Angie. Me too.”

\---

“I don’t like it.”

 

Gabe sighed. “Of course you don’t, Jackie, you made that obvious from the start. This could be our big break though.”

 

“Yeah, if we don’t get squashed by the empire’s soldiers before we can act on it!” Jack frowned, pointing at the map in front of them. “Look, here’s the town we’re closest to. This is where Jesse found Prince Genji. Is it really a coincidence that he was there?”

 

“And I assume you’re going to cite the sandstorm that has prevented him from leaving as another dastardly scheme of the Shimadas, hmm?” Ana cut in and placed her hands on her hips. “Face it, Jack, you’re being paranoid. I’m as skeptical as the rest of you, but we need to trust him in some capacity. This war is going nowhere otherwise, we all know that.”

 

“Yeah? And what if I’m right? If this is all a set up by the empire--”

 

“Then we walk right into it and we’re fools, I know. This is why we’re sending him back. It’s a well thought-out plan, we have to believe in that.” Ana sighed. She was getting too old for this shit. 

 

Jack opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by the tent’s flaps flying open. One of their younger scouts stood in the opening, panting and out of breath. Her eyes were wide with panic.

 

“We’re being invaded by the Shimadas!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next chapter, something amazing will happen: the main ship will finally meet! Under what circumstances? Well, that remains to be seen.


	5. Standoff

Hanzo vastly preferred the bustling streets of New Hanamura to the small town markets of the south. The people down here were crude and direct, and had no mind for subtlety or any sort of tact. Their clothes were cropped short and worn, beaten by sand and rock time and time again. So different from the capital, yet masked as the same country.

 

It was difficult to wait as his troupe took their short rest in the nearby inn. He was restless, unable to sit still, and so found himself out people-watching in the street. It was strange, standing amidst the market-goers, watching everyone carry on with their lives like nothing was happening. Like there wasn’t a hostile nation a few miles off, like their emperor wasn’t bedridden. Like their very own prince hadn’t been kidnapped in this town just a short time ago. A feeling bloomed in his stomach that he couldn’t quite place, something cold and biting. Detachment. Naivety. A lack of awareness of his own kingdom, of his people's lives. 

 

He realized that he hadn’t been outside the capital, much less to the south, in months. All of his attention had been directed into his studies and the military campaign, which he was to lead from the safety of the palace. It seemed strange at the time, especially considering Hanzo’s previous successes in battle, but with his father’s illness hanging over all of their heads it just seemed right. 

 

And that was another strange thing; no one knew what the illness was. In addition to tactics, Hanzo had poured over several medical and historical tomes, searching for even the slightest hint as to what could be wrong. He’d spoken to shamans, clerics, bards, anyone that may have even the slightest clue, but there were no leads. His symptoms pointed to poison, but the physicians couldn’t find a trace of any harmful substance in his body. Hanzo knew he should help, that he  _ could  _ help, but just the thought of his father’s frail form made it seem so impossible.

 

Hanzo shook his head; this was no time for reflection, nor self pity. He was on a mission. 

 

He gathered the warriors accompanying him and set off once more, further south into the arid desert. This would mark the most dangerous part of the journey by far: crossing an active war zone. While no significant battles had taken place recently, there could be traps or enemies at any moment. 

 

Hanzo had taken care when selecting his warriors and ended up with the six finest from his personal battalion. He did not trust the royal army nor the mansabdars to accompany him, not with his father’s condition the way it was. It had been a struggle to leave Hana behind. Though her duties were more secretarial than anything, she was immensely skilled in combat, and Hanzo knew that. He had taught her to shoot himself. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something would go wrong in this damned desert, that something was just  _ waiting  _ for him out here. 

 

It didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

 

The desert was calm, almost eerily so. The only sound echoing across the red rocks and seemingly infinite dunes of sand was that of their horses galloping through. Hanzo kept his gaze sharp, attention focused. He’d known it wouldn’t be like the northern forested plains, or even the eastern river valleys or western marshes, but the silence here unnerved him. Aside from a few stray shrubs, there was a distinct lack of life present here. Even the dragons began to stir under his skin, rumbling with discontent.

 

They rode several hours from the town under the hot desert sun, sweat beading on their necks. Despite their caution, the path continued on unhindered aside from the occasional bird or shrew. No traps, no enemies in sight.

 

Until it was too late. 

 

Hanzo heard the rustling before his soldiers did, turned to warn them with a barking shout within seconds, but he was too late. He watched as they dropped one by one, falling off horseback like children just learning to ride. Hanzo tugged on his own mount’s reins sharply, pulling them to a cold stop. 

 

Sleep darts. Non-lethal shots, but his squad wouldn’t wake up for a good while. Hanzo looked around the area--aside from the shrubbery, there was no good place to hide. A sniper, then. The shooter seemed to have paused for the moment, otherwise Hanzo would’ve heard another shot.

 

He gathered his soldiers and hefted them over to the safe shade of the bushes. It seemed for now the enemy was on the defensive--it was unlikely they’d come back and attack the sleeping soldiers after they’d put in the resources to create non-lethal projectiles in the first place. Once they were secure, Hanzo tied the horses nearby and readied his bow before setting off once more.

 

It was much easier to stay aware on foot, he realized--without his concentration divided between the terrain and keeping his horse in line, Hanzo noticed smaller details easily. He came to a small clearing and glanced around, bow at the ready. His eyes landed on faded footprints in the sand and scuff marks across the rocks. 

 

The snap of a gun chamber on his left. 

 

Hanzo ducked the dart effortlessly and held up his bow, firing a shot off towards the shooter. It stuck harshly in a rock nearby, tail still swinging with force as the shadow it just barely missed rolled out of the way and took off running. Hanzo held his bow up once more, pulled the arrow back to his chin and aimed--then stopped short at the click of a musket behind him. 

 

“Hol’ up there now.” 

 

The voice was deep, rough. Hanzo whirled around to face his opponent--a man, approximately his age but taller, wrapped in red rags and wearing a crooked smile. He was broad, handsome in a ruggish way. An untamed stallion. His hands held the musket aloft casually, as if it were a children’s toy, but the way his finger curled around the trigger belied his skill. 

 

Hanzo felt his arms burn with the strain of holding the bow for this long, but kept them steady. He would not yield, would not allow his muscles to shake yet. He would not show weakness to this man.

 

Their eyes met, a warrior’s resolve mirrored back. A moment passed. Hanzo’s wrist began to quiver. The man’s smile broadened, hip cocked to the side tauntingly. Hanzo was tempted to shoot just for that. He tightened his grip on the string and pulled back just a centimeter further--

 

“Brother!” 

 

And just like that the tension was shattered, the man relaxing his grip on the gun as Hanzo let his arrow fly off to the right. It stuck in the ground some meters away, but Hanzo wasn’t paying attention to that, not when Genji had appeared in front of him like a court magician. He came barreling in like a wild bull, a blur of white teeth and a tight hug that had Hanzo wheezing on his feet.

 

“Genji.  _ Genji,”  _ he coughed, thumping his brother on the back. He seemed to get the message and stepped back, allowing Hanzo to look him up and down. He opened his mouth to speak, his grin wide and far too optimistic for the situation, but Hanzo stopped him with a look. “Why are you here? How are you not in chains? And what happened to your  _ hair?” _ The questions fell from his lips unbidden, shock, anger, and relief mixing together into one. 

 

“Chains? What are you talking about?” Genji tilted his head to the side, furrowing his brow. “These people are kind, Hanzo! They showed me all these amazing potions. One of them turned my hair green!”

 

Hanzo felt his relief fade, the anger and shock growing stronger in its place. “Are you serious? You were  _ kidnapped.  _ I was sent to rescue you! How can you make light of this--of this!” He gestured to the desert around them, to the man still holding his gun a few meters away.

 

“Hey, he wanted it, partner. Ain’t much of a kidnappin’ if it’s voluntary.” The man shrugged and took a step forward, towards Genji. Hanzo’s arrow was immediately trained on his chest once more.

 

“Brother, no!” Genji grabbed the arrowhead frantically. “He is an ally, a friend! Let me explain what is happening, please. Trust me.”

 

Hanzo stared Genji down, eyes narrowed. Every muscle in his body  _ screamed  _ to shoot, to defend himself before they did something stupid. He glanced back at the man, who watched him with wary eyes, cradling the musket in his arms. He looked back to Genji, whose eyes were wide with fear and hope, his lip quivering ever so slightly as it had since he was a child.

 

“Very well.” Hanzo stuck the arrow back in his quiver with a sigh. He could practically hear his father chiding him. “If we are killed, I will make sure your afterlife is a living hell, Genji.”

 

Genji nodded and sent another dazzling grin his way, thumping Hanzo on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Let us return to the camp, then. All will be explained there.”

 

Hanzo nodded his assent with a huff. 

 

The man shouldered his musket and grinned. “Guess we’ll call this a draw then, eh?” 

 

“Please,” Hanzo scoffed. “You could not hit me if you tried.”

 

As they walked off into the desert, Hanzo remained cautious, eyes and ears straining for anything out of the ordinary. He had said before that he trusted Genji with his life, but at this point he was beginning to reconsider. 

\---

It turned out that Genji  _ had  _ known what he was doing, at least a little bit. The deal he struck with the Overwatch States wasn’t completely unreasonable, as crazy as it had sounded at first. He met the sniper who had shot his men, Ana Amari, and found she was actually quite pleasant. At least more so than Jack Morrison, who spent much of their initial meeting scowling at him. 

 

Despite the warm welcome he received, Hanzo remained on edge. Yes, the plan seemed to their advantage, but Genji obviously hadn’t thought the situation through--they were in the middle of an enemy camp, far out in the desert and away from their home. What would happen if they disagreed? It was a simple military tactic, one of the oldest in the book; the illusion of a choice. It seemed almost  _ too  _ convenient that it all worked out so well. Of course, Hanzo wouldn’t voice his thoughts. Not yet, at least, while they were still in the heart of danger. 

 

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t complain, though.

 

“This is utterly ridiculous,” Hanzo sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “However, it seems to be our best shot. My brother is a complete imbecile. Naive, rash, incredibly impetuous--”

 

“Hey!”

 

“--but he makes a good point. The state of affairs in the capital grows weaker by the day. Loathe as I am to admit it, the crown is in need of assistance.” He looked up, scanning the faces of those at the table. “I do not profess to know how your system works, but I’m sure you’ve seen your share of corruption and power-hungry individuals. That being said, I will warn you: the mansabdars are nothing like you’ve encountered before. They are vipers, snakes in the court who will do anything to vie for territory above their station.”

 

The musketeer from before--Prince Jesse, Genji had said--nodded. “Snakes in the grass.”

 

Hanzo shot him a withering glare before continuing on. “My grudge against them outweighs my grudge against the Overwatch States. If I am being honest, you lot have been nothing but trouble from the moment we began our campaign. And your land isn’t even worth that much.” He crossed his arms and stared coolly at the leaders gathered before him. If his life at the courts had prepared him for one thing, it was negotiations. “I will agree to this plan, on the condition that I monitor the letters. My brother has my full trust, but you all have yet to earn it.”

 

Commander Morrison opened his mouth as if to retort, but stopped when Chief Reyes laid a hand on his shoulder. They exchanged a look Hanzo couldn’t quite comprehend before Reyes nodded and stepped forward. 

 

“Very well. We have a deal.”

 

Reyes held his hand out and Hanzo took it, their pact sealed with a firm shake. Hanzo bowed out of respect, earning a quirked eyebrow, before turning to Genji. 

 

“We are leaving at once. Grab whatever you brought.”

 

Genji’s jaw dropped. “W-What? So soon? The sandstorm just passed and your men--your men, what happened to your men?”

 

“They are still asleep. We shall collect them and head back.” Hanzo pointedly looked away from Captain Amari as he answered. She was pleasant, but sharp. He didn’t want to get on her bad side anytime soon (especially since he’d already seen how capable she was with a rifle).

 

“But Hanzo, these people are so kind. You should stay at least a  _ little  _ while!”

 

_ “Genji,” _ Hanzo snapped, “you have been missing for over a week. Father is worried sick and everyone in the capital is under the impression you were kidnapped. We are leaving.”

 

Genji shut his mouth and nodded. The two strode to the tent’s exit, but Hanzo stopped at the threshold. He turned to look over his shoulder, eyes catching Prince Jesse’s. For a moment the world narrowed to just the two of them, a repeat of their meeting a few hours ago.

 

It only lasted a moment, though. Hanzo gave a near-imperceptible nod and was off, his brother following behind him as they followed the dusty red road home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long guys, it's been a long summer! Hope you enjoyed though, especially now that our main couple has finally _actually_ met! The plot only picks up from here, so stay tuned!


	6. Homecoming

Genji’s return to the capital was met with a surprising amount of fanfare. Hanzo expected plenty of dulled reassurances and greetings by those wishing to keep up appearances, but instead nearly lost his brother in the swarm of mansabdars who rushed to see them upon word of their arrival. Councillors and chamberlains of various rank and age huddled around them, declarations of worry and relief pushing past their lips like wind whistling through the desert rock. Hanzo was quick to wave them off, insist that both he and Genji were fatigued, though uninjured, and required some rest before they were to address the public. 

 

It wasn’t a total lie; he’d been back in the capital for a scarce few minutes and already had a splitting headache. 

 

After gracefully dodging a few more crowds of needling statesmen, they finally arrived at Hanzo’s quarters. Most people knew of the elder Shimada’s harsh temper, and so tended to steer clear. It was the perfect place to settle down and regroup their thoughts. Not to mention he kept it much cleaner.

 

Hana and Lucio were awaiting them inside. They had read Hanzo’s letters, knew the truth of what had happened in the south. They were just about the only ones Hanzo and Genji could trust with it, but by the looks on their faces there was yet more to discuss. As soon as the doors were closed, Lucio flew across the room and wrapped Genji in a bone-crushing hug. He raised an eyebrow at the gleeful wheeze that followed but said nothing--he’d have time to tease Genji later.

 

They stepped apart after an extended moment and Hanzo cleared his throat. “Miss Song, your report, if you would.”

 

“If you insist. Though I’m not sure you’re gonna like it.” Hana crossed her arms and shifted her weight. “To start with, it was quiet while you were gone, for the most part.”

 

Genji tensed. “That’s not good.”

 

“No, it’s not,” Hana conceded with a nod. “It was scarily quiet, in fact. The emperor’s condition hasn’t changed a bit, though he gets more visitors by the day. Still sickly, still bedridden, still has that charming smile. Sometimes I swear he’s the only thing keeping this place intact.”

 

Hanzo frowned, but before he could say anything Lucio cut in. “That’s not even the strange part. The real weird shit? The mansabdars. They were jus’ sittin’ around like house cats this whole time, lazing in the court and all. The younger  _ and  _ the older ones. Together. All they did was complain about the war and worry for Prince Genji.”

 

A cold feeling welled up in Hanzo’s chest, not dissimilar to what he felt at the southern border. The biting ache of ignorance. “Are you sure? There were no faction meetings, no property disputes or vying for rank changes?” 

 

Hana’s mouth settled into a grim line. “As sure as the sky is blue and the forests are green, your majesty.” 

 

A shroud of silence fell over the four of them then, stifling in its weight. Hanzo would have almost preferred something  _ had  _ happened while they were away--at least then he could retaliate, could summon his anger and push back as he’d been doing for so many years. But this was something else entirely. Hanzo had been reading strategy books since he was born, remembered his mother cradling him in her lap while she read the history of their country’s wars as bedtime stories. Action by inaction. It was cunning, it was dangerous, and worst of all there was no way to know what was to come. 

 

“We should...probably go,” Lucio spoke up, interrupting Hanzo’s thoughts. “It was hard enough keeping the paperwork at bay when you guys were away. Now that you’re back I don’t even wanna think about what we have to deal with.” 

 

“Aw Luc, why’d you have to go and bring it up?” Hana sighed. “He has a point though. If you need us at all you know where to look.” 

 

The silence settled over Hanzo and Genji once more as their scribes left. 

 

“Brother--”

 

“Save it, Genji. I have already made my thoughts on our situation very clear,” Hanzo interrupted with a sigh. He felt a little bad, especially since he had spent the past few days of their return lecturing his brother, but he hadn’t the time to think about it. From what Hana and Lucio had told them, the situation was evolving faster than they realized, and Genji’s ‘kidnapping’ had only made things worse.

 

Genji was silent for a moment as Hanzo stewed over his thoughts, but eventually spoke up. “I understand your anger and hesitation. But I stand by my decision; we are stuck between two difficult battles. We need all the help we can get.”

 

“And you chose to seek help from our enemies.”

 

“I chose to seek help from those who would lend it!” He threw his hands up and stormed over to the desk on the other side of the room. “The mansabdars were out of the question, and there is  _ no one  _ we can trust in the capital aside from our father, you know this. The Overwatch States are a gamble, yes, but at least there is a chance of winning with them. You said it yourself--the crown needs assistance. I cannot simply sit by while our country continues to crumble.”

 

Hanzo balked. “It is not crumbling, Genji. I know the current state of affairs upsets you, but this is overreacting--”

 

Genji’s hands met the desk with a loud  _ smack. _ “Overreacting?! How can you tell me that? I saw your face when Hana gave her report, I’ve been watching the tension build in your shoulders for weeks after each ‘meeting’ you attend, each court session you have to suffer through. I am concerned for our empire, yes, but I am also concerned about you.” He sighed dejectedly and turned, meeting Hanzo’s gaze with a frown. “It’s just...you haven’t been the same since…”

 

Hanzo inhaled sharply. He wouldn’t.

 

“Since mother...”

 

_ “Don’t,” _ Hanzo growled, silencing Genji immediately. “You have no right to speak of such things.”

 

There was a pause before Genji began again, softer this time. “It is true, though. Everything has changed, since then. The mansabdars, the capital, the skirmish or war or whatever you wish to call it. Everything started spiralling out of control on that day, Hanzo.” 

 

“I do not wish to hear this,” Hanzo muttered. “Please, Genji. Not now.”

 

He hated this. Hated the pity apparent in Genji’s eyes, hated the soft ‘okay’ he received in response. Hated the twisted world they lived in for forcing them into this situation. 

 

Hanzo took a deep breath. His hatred would motivate him, spurn him to take action and fix this. It could not control him, though. No, this situation required far more tact. More strategical thinking.

 

The image of a man clad in red sprung to his mind unbidden, grin feral and deceitful eyes shining with a hidden intelligence. 

 

But that was  _ their  _ way. Hanzo had always been more direct. 

 

“I will not go back on my word. We will carry on with this plan, ill-conceived though I still believe it to be.” Hanzo strode over to the desk and leaned over, pulling various supplies from one of its drawers. “Go ahead and write the first letter; our new ‘allies’ will want a status report.”

 

Genji nodded and obliged him, settling down at the desk. Hanzo had no idea how this plan would pan out, what could possibly necessitate action that wouldn’t also incriminate the royal family, but as Genji had said it was their best shot. Their only shot. 

 

Perhaps he should have grabbed one of those strange potions before they left the Overwatch encampment. 

\---

Jesse had been only mildly surprised when the first letter arrived. He trusted Genji to keep his word (he had a lot of faith in his ability to read people), but was not quite as sure Hanzo would allow it. From what he’d seen of the other prince, the man seemed to be more rigid than a metaphorical stick in the mud. And this was coming from the guy who had to deal with Jack Morrison on a daily basis. 

 

Yet the letter had arrived nonetheless, a somewhat basic affair affixed with the appropriate seal as Genji had promised. It detailed their journey home and the current state of the capital (worrying, at best), as well as a curt promise to send another with updates soon. Jesse couldn’t help but wonder how much of the letter’s contents had been cut out by the elder Shimada.

 

Jesse couldn’t deny that Hanzo interested him in many ways. As a warrior, as a fellow prince, and even as a person. Genji had been surprisingly amiable and easy to talk to, partly due to his natural charm but also because of how easily his values aligned with Jesse’s own. Hanzo, on the other hand, was still a mystery. He seemed to agree with his brother, at least somewhat, but was distinctly different in nearly every way. He was stubborn, blunt, and even rude, but also determined, strong, and drop-dead gorgeous. 

 

Maybe Angie had a point about him being ‘persuaded’ by the enemy. 

 

Weeks had passed since they struck that deal. Word around the camp was that another letter arrived this morning. Judging by the distinct lack of people huddled around Gabe’s tent complaining, Jesse guessed that was true. It didn’t stop him from strolling in to double-check, though. 

 

As predicted, Gabe was seated at a small desk low to the ground, eyes scanning a piece of parchment in his hands. Jesse braced himself for a sarcastic quip about knocking before entering, but Gabe remained silent. That wasn’t a good sign.

 

He decided to take the plunge. “Hey. Anythin’ new with our pals up north?”

 

“Yeah. Trouble,” Gabe groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “Seems that Prince Genji’s ‘kidnapping’ warranted retaliation by the younger mansabdars. The older ones insisted on caution though, wanted to keep him safe in the capital. They came to an agreement rather quickly, which based off of what the prince has to say is not a good sign.”

 

Jesse nodded. “Buncha nutjobs like that suddenly gettin’ together? Never spells anythin’ good.”

 

“Yeah. That’s not the worst of it though,” he sighed. “The agreement they came to was that Prince Hanzo should lead a patrol near the border, keep an eye on us. See what we’re on about.”

 

“And how’s this gonna impact us?”

 

Gabe looked up at the question, his gaze fixing on Jesse. He looked tired, moreso than he had since the war started. Deep bags under his eyes, scars jagged across his face, pronounced wrinkles digging into his skin. He looked so much older like this. It reminded Jesse that he  _ was  _ old, had been around the desert more times than he could count and had fought his way through it all. That he wouldn’t be around forever.

 

“You’re being assigned as an envoy,” Gabe said, his voice betraying no emotion. “You’re going to be Hanzo Shimada’s new bodyguard.”

 

Jesse felt like his eyes were about to pop out of his damn skull. “I’m going to be his  _ what  _ now?”

 

“Bodyguard. The guy that makes sure he doesn’t get dead. You’re going to infiltrate his personal guard and make some friends, build trust among them that the Overwatch States aren’t the real bad guys. Turn some heads and hearts. Build a network. Basic stuff, yeah?” Gabe raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into the slightest of smirks. There was no way he hadn’t seen the tension between the two of them all those weeks ago. Or maybe that was why he assigned him: he always had been a little sadistic.

 

“He’s an enemy prince. He has lead campaigns that killed our people,” Jesse muttered, but his heart wasn’t in it. Gabe had already won the fight.

 

“Yeah, and now he’s our ally. Times are a-changin’, as Jackie would say.” The smirk grew into a full on grin and gods, Jesse loved his dad but he wanted to punch him real bad.

 

On some level though, Jesse knew there was more to this. More than Gabe trying to rile him up, more than keeping an eye on the prince. Gabe trusted him. He trusted him to succeed on this mission, to keep eyes and ears out while thinking on his feet quick enough to stay out of trouble. He knew Jesse could do this.

 

He tilted his hat back and looked down at Gabe with a weary sigh. “When do I start?” 

 

“Three days.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates? On my fic? It's more likely than you think. Sorry this one's so short yet again, but hey, it's something!

**Author's Note:**

> a big big big thank you to my lovely betas: [Tala](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingDalish), [Mango](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentMango), and [Semageon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EyesOnSema). they provided wonderful feedback to improve this chapter tremendously <3
> 
> a huge thank you as well to the shipwatch discord! i wouldn't have been able to write this without the inspiration you guys give me, you're all so very wonderful. 
> 
> as always, find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tsoleille) or [tumblr](http://schrodingerslion.tumblr.com/)! i love talking to anyone and everyone who will listen, and i'm always taking prompts, as well as ['requests'](http://schrodingerslion.tumblr.com/commissions), if that catches your fancy. til next time, have a good one!


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